Chapter Forty-One
Aleksei
I straighten the papers on my desk for the third time, checking my watch against the ornate clock on the wall.
Ten minutes until my next appointment— an appointment I arranged through Diana rather than setting it myself. A conversation I’m not looking forward to but know is necessary.
For Stella , I remind myself.
The guilt surfaces unexpectedly, a sharp stab beneath my ribs as I recall Sofia in the forest clearing, gun to her head.
How much of her despair stems from my actions?
The public rejection at our arranged wedding was business, not personal— but to her, the humiliation was very personal. And then there’s her father…
I killed Sergei Novikov with my own hands.
Threw him across a public restroom after he made a dismissive comment about Bobik and his condition.
Business and personal intertwined, as they always do in our world.
I don’t regret eliminating a threat to my family and business, but I can’t deny the consequences: Sofia, already unstable, lost her only remaining family.
A soft knock interrupts my thoughts. “Come in,” I call, my voice carefully neutral.
The door opens to reveal Sofia Novikova— the woman I’ve spent the entire morning not wanting to speak to.
“Aleksei,” she says, her voice lacking its usual sharp edge.
She looks better than she did in the forest— color returned to her face, just a small bandage over the stitches in her forehead — but fragility clings to her.
The composed, calculating woman I once knew has been replaced by someone more vulnerable, more human.
“Sofia.” I gesture to the chair opposite my desk. “Sit.”
She moves carefully, lowering herself into the leather chair.
Her eyes dart around my office, taking in the expensive furnishings, the security detail visible through the windows, the family photos I’ve angled slightly away from visitor’s view.
Her gaze lingers briefly on a photo of Stella with Polina— her biological sister and niece.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet,” I say, falling back on business formalities to navigate this bizarre situation. “I thought it was time we discussed certain arrangements.”
“Arrangements,” she repeats, her tone cautious.
I lean forward slightly, resting my forearms on the desk. “Stella has explained your… connection to her. Your biological relationship.”
Sofia nods once, her expression guarded. “She has.”
“I’m willing to accept you as part of our family,” I continue, still neutral, all business. “Given your blood connection to Stella and my daughter.”
Her eyebrows lift slightly— the only visible reaction to what must be an unexpected statement. For Stella, I would endure much worse than facing a woman I jilted at the altar. Stella wants her sister in her life, which means I must find a way to deal with this mess.
“This arrangement is purely for Stella’s benefit,” I add, wanting no misunderstandings. “She believes having you in her life— in Polina’s life— is important.”
Sofia studies me for a long moment, as if searching for the trap beneath my words. “And you’re… okay with this? After everything?”
The question hangs between us, loaded with our complicated history. The arranged marriage. The public rejection. Her attempts to undermine my business with Gianni. The poisoning attempt on Stella.
“I’m practical,” I answer finally. “You’re Stella’s blood. That makes you family, regardless of our past. Family is important to me.”
Sofia doesn’t respond immediately, her fingers tracing the edge of the armrest. “I won’t disrupt your lives or cause any trouble,” she says finally. “I’ve had time to think since… the forest. I understand now that my actions were wrong.”
The sincerity in her voice surprises me. I expected manipulation, maybe an attempt to leverage her new status for advantage. Instead, I see something I recognize from my own mirror— the face of someone who has stared into the abyss and returned changed.
“Your emotional state is a problem,” I say bluntly. “I’m willing to facilitate professional help. Therapy, medication, whatever specialists recommend.”
Sofia looks genuinely startled by this offer. “Why would you do that?”
Sofia doesn’t know it, but I’m partially responsible for her broken state. This offer is as much penance as it is family duty. I can never tell her I killed her father— that revelation would destroy any chance of peace between us— but I can attempt to mitigate the damage I’ve caused.
“Because you’re important to Stella,” I say instead. “And because no one should face those demons alone.”
Something shifts in her expression— a slight softening around the eyes, a barely perceptible relaxation of her shoulders.
“Thank you,” she says quietly. “I would… appreciate that help.”
I nod, moving to the next practical matter. “Until you recover, you’re welcome to stay in the manor. The guest suite in the Left Wing can be yours for the time being.”
“That’s very generous,” she says, genuine surprise coloring her voice.
“We’ll need to establish certain boundaries,” I continue, maintaining the businesslike tone that seems to be working. “Security protocols, scheduled family time, gradual integration. But those details can be worked out with time.”
Sofia’s composure slips slightly, revealing the depth of her loneliness. “I’ve never really had a family before. Not a real one. My father was…” She stops, pain flashing across her features at the mention of Sergei.
Guilt twists in my gut again. I push it down, focusing on the present. “This is unusual for both of us,” I acknowledge. “But for Stella’s sake, we’ll make it work.”
“For Stella,” she agrees, then adds hesitantly, “and for Polina, too. I’d like to know my niece.”
The word “niece” sounds strange coming from her lips, but not unwelcome.
Despite everything, I find myself feeling like this arrangement might actually work.
Sofia’s suicide attempt suggests she’s hit rock bottom; sometimes that’s where redemption begins.
I’ve seen it in Bratva members, in business associates, in myself.
“One step at a time,” I say, rising from my chair to show our meeting is ending. “We’ll start with your recovery, then build from there.”
She stands as well, smoothing her skirt with hands that tremble slightly— a tell she would have never allowed before. “I know you’re doing this for Stella, not for me,” she says. “But I appreciate it anyway.”
I move around the desk, reducing the physical barrier between us. It’s a calculated gesture of trust, though I remain alert to any sign of deception. Old habits die hard.
“We both care about Stella,” I say. “That’s enough common ground to begin with.
” I pause, considering my next words carefully.
“But do not, for one moment, think this gives you special privileges, Sofia,” I say quietly, an undertone of menace evident.
“These people are my world. If you do anything to harm any one of them, there will be consequences. Do you understand me?”
Her expression flickers, and I wait for a sign of the old Sofia’s manipulation to surface. It doesn’t. “I understand. I would never—”
“Of course you would never,” I continue in the same quiet tone. “Because if I ever hear even the slightest rumor of what goes on in these walls, if one word of Bobik’s existence starts to circulate…” I lean forward slightly. “They would never, ever find your body, Sofia.”
Her face pales and her throat works. Her head bobs quickly. She licks suddenly dry lips. “It will never happen, Aleksei. Not from my mouth. I swear it.”
I narrow my eyes on her face for a moment, still looking for those old patterns of deceit. All I see is a scared, broken woman. Broken, in part, because of me. I straighten.
“Good,” I say briskly. “Then we will get along just fine.”
Sofia nods, then extends her hand in a formal gesture that acknowledges our new, cautious alliance. I take it briefly, the handshake sealing our unusual arrangement.
As I watch her leave my office, I’m struck by how quickly life can change course. A week ago, Sofia Novikova was an enemy, a threat to eliminate. Today, she’s family— damaged, complicated family, but family nonetheless.
The Bratva taught me that blood is everything. Now I’m learning that lesson in ways I never anticipated, extending the protection of my name to a woman who once tried to destroy everything I built.
For Stella. For my children. These are the justifications I offer myself.
But as I return to my desk, I acknowledge the truth beneath those reasons: guilt. Responsibility. The weight of knowing I’ve shattered lives and must now attempt to reassemble the pieces into something that resembles redemption.
Not just for Stella.
For myself as well.